


Glory 0.1

by illumynare



Category: Destiny (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, Owl Sector
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-19 20:34:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8223964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illumynare/pseuds/illumynare
Summary: Officially, the Crucible is not a spectator sport.





	

**Author's Note:**

> (I started thinking about Owl Sector and timelines and Ikora’s career in the Crucible and then THIS WROTE ITSELF.)

Officially, the Crucible was not a spectator sport. It was sacred, a place where Guardians learned to master pain and fear as they trained for the defense of the City.

Unofficially, footage always leaked, bets were always made, pub brawls over the outcome of a match were not uncommon—

And if Ikora Rey was fighting, Shun Li would always find a way to watch.

“I can’t believe you dragged us out here,” Quist complained—loudly, because there was no other way he’d be heard over the rumble of the crowd. His geography textbook was balanced precariously between two pints of beer and an enormous basket of fried plaintains, and there was a spatter of hot sauce on his glasses.

“Come on.” Berriole reached over Quist’s arm to snag a plaintain. She’d given up half an hour ago and stowed her cryptography homework in her pack. “When has he not dragged us out to see her matches?”

“You know you like it,” Shun said with a grin. “Besides, this is the first time in months.”

“Final exams start tomorrow! Some of us don’t want to—”

Shun bolted upright in his seat. “GUYS, LOOK.”

On the screen over the bar, the footage had switched to the surveillance camera near the B flag. Ikora Rey slid around the corner, her shotgun barking out a rapid volley. Two Guardians went down in seconds; then Ikora rolled, dodging a fusion grenade, and killed the third with a single, shimmering slam of her palm. She stood alone, panting for breath, as the Ghosts of her fallen enemies swirled around her, transmatting the bodies.

“It can fire full auto,” Shun said reverently. “You know it regenerates ammo, right?”

“No, Shun,” said Beriole, deadpan. “I have never heard that information before. Please tell me more.”

Shun didn’t respond. He was staring raptly at the screen: Ikora had paused in her rampage across the map to capture B flag. Late afternoon sunlight shimmered golden around her like a halo.

Quist finally looked up from his textbook. “You do realize that she’s at least fifteen years older than you.”

“Nah, she’s a Guardian,” Shun said cheerfully. “Probably a _hundred_ years older.”

“If you like older women that much, I have a grandmother. If you’re very nice, she might even pinch your cheek.”

Suddenly Berriole squeaked. “FALLEN INSCRIPTIONS ON THE WALL. GIVE ME A PEN. THAT’S AN ARCHAIC HOUSE OF STONE DIALECT.”

Shun handed her a pen; she seized Quist’s book and started furiously scribbling on the endpapers. Quist raised a hand to grab at the book, then gave up with a sigh.

On the screen, more Guardians were gathering around the flag. Ikora was already gone.

“I bet she’s going to pin them down at their spawn,” Shun said with enthusiasm.

“You know she will never, ever even talk to you, right?” said Quist.

“Doesn’t make her less amazing,” said Shun. “Besides, you never know. I _am_ irresistibly charming.”


End file.
